The Meaning of Hockey, Final Week!

There were about seven thousand fans, almost filling the bottom ring of seats in Portland’s Rose Garden, as the Totems played their last game of the year, a Saturday, December 31, late matinee against the Winter Hawks.

No one had spoken of the significance of the game, at least not in front of Bobby, but there was an undercurrent of extra tension. Players, who had not seen each other for a week because of the Christmas break, spoke about presents and showed off their new electronic gadgets on the bus ride down from Vancouver that morning. Still there were whispers and Bobby knew the players were probably discussing the “situation” or the “fucking situation” as Troy put it.

Play was sloppy in the first period, which was to be expected since neither team had even practiced for a week. The Totems scored first, on yet another breakaway by Buckinghorse set up by a beside-the-net-to-the-red-line pass from Hollingsworth. Matt, and even Kevin, who was normally extremely reserved, gave Bobby an extra smile as they returned to the bench.

But then, only a few minutes later, the Winter Hawks tied the game when a shot from the point ricocheted off two sets of skates before ending up in the Totem net behind Weldon.

“Lucky goal,” was muttered by twenty sets of lips but the tension level went up one more notch and the tightness in the Totems’ play increased.

Early in the second period the Totems again took a one-goal lead with a tally from Kiniski, who finished off a beautiful passing play that had seen Picard pinch in at the Winter Hawks’ blueline and throw the puck into the corner to Chedomensky. Cheddar won the battle in the corner with the Portland defenseman, then skated towards the net before passing it back out to Picard, who immediately moved it across to Rabinovitch on the other point. Rabinovitch passed it off to Kiniski on the boards who slid it across to Vicente in the high slot for a one-timer that produced a big rebound right onto Kiniski’s stick. He slapped it top shelf over the sprawling Portland netminder and the entire Totem bench sighed in unison.

But once again, the Winter Hawks tied the game quickly with another lucky goal. This one came when Wickermasinghe went down to block a slap shot from the point on a Winter Hawk powerplay. The puck hit his shin pads, but had enough momentum to tumble about ten feet into the air and fall, almost lazily, into the net behind Weldon.

“Fuck Bobby,” said Troy, who then proceeded to pat the backs of the players along the bench. “Lucky goal, shake it off. Lucky goal, shake it off. Lucky goal, shake it off.”

Then, a few minutes into the third period, Buckinghorse got another breakaway, but this time the Portland goalie guessed right and made a sliding save. Chang, who had trailed the play, slapped at the rebound, but the Winter Hawk goalie kicked up his left pad to block the shot. That rebound went straight to Buckinghorse’s stick, but instead of trying to stuff it under the goalie, Kevin pulled the puck back to Ryan who had skated into the low slot. JC fired a wrist shot low to the corner and the Totems were ahead 3-2.

This time the celebration at the Vancouver bench was more subdued. In fact, except for a few perfunctory pats on the scorer’s back, the Totems were more focused on whether or not the Winter Hawks could come up with yet another fortuitous tying goal.

Sure enough, three shifts later, there was a scramble behind the Totems’s net. Picard slammed a Portland player into the endboard and skated away with the puck, immediately wristing it safely into the corner and up along the sideboards to Paul Sakic, who was about half the distance between the goal line and the blueline. Then the strangest thing happened, something Bobby, in all his years in hockey, had never seen before. Sakic slapped at the puck, intending to keep it moving up past the Winter Hawk defenseman and out of the Totems’ zone, one of the most common plays in hockey. But instead of the puck traveling along the wall, it caught some flaw in the boards and flew perpendicularly back towards the net, landing right on the stick of a Portland player who was wide open at the edge of the crease. But that wasn’t even the strangest part of the play. Weldon, who was caught completely off guard, reacted so quickly to the strange bounce that by the time the surprised Portland player could get off a shot the Totem goalie had slid across the crease and caught the puck with his skate. Billy’s skate, the puck and the Winter Hawk’s stick all made contact at the exact-same instant. Normally, in such a case, one would expect the puck to squirt off safely into the corner or to be deflected up over the boards and into the crowd. But not this time. Instead, the piece of partially frozen rubber stuck onto the tip of Billy’s skate like a skewer of meat on a barbecue. Then, in the pileup that ensued, the skate, together with the puck, crossed the red stripe and the referee signaled a goal.

“That was the luckiest fucking goal I’ve ever seen,” said Troy.

No one argued. In fact, no one at the Totem bench said a word for a few seconds. Fate seemed to be sending a message. Strangely, rather than feel upset, Bobby remained calm and even content. The lyric of that stupid song traveled through his brain. It was Julie Andrews or the Singing Nun belting out “Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.” He hated the song more than what was happening out on the ice.

It took Troy only a few minutes to think of the silver lining in the situation.

“Come on guys, let’s get another goal. They can’t possibly get another goal luckier than that one. And that’s the only kind they score.”

That seemed to motivate the boys and their play picked up as the clock ticked off the last half of the third period. The Totems buzzed around the Portland netminder. It was like a ten-minute power play. The official scorer registered nineteen shots on goal, but with a minute to go, the scoreboard still read 3-3.

The faceoff was in the Totems’ end. Mike Martin won it and tapped it back to Lalli in the corner. He skated behind the net, at first looking to make a pass, but then suddenly he was at full speed heading straight up the middle of the ice. His burst caught the Winter Hawk forwards back on their heels and by the time they had recovered, Sam only had two white jerseys between him and the Portland goal. He never even made a move left or right. He just skated so quickly in the dead center of the ice that neither the left nor the right side Portland defenseman ever took ultimate responsibility. Lalli slipped between them just inside the Portland blueline and still didn’t make a move to either side. He simply fired a hard, low wrist shot that traveled a few inches off the ice surface to the goalie’s glove side. The puck clanged off the inside of the post and bounced back to hit the twine at the rear of the net.

The Totem bench erupted with cheers. There were only forty-two seconds left in the game and it looked like Vancouver would win its thirteenth straight game.

Troy, a superstitious type, said nothing. In fact, he turned away from the play as the puck was dropped at center ice. Bobby watched, although he somehow knew what was going to happen.

The Winter Hawks won the faceoff, but the Totems’ checking line of Martin, Ladner and Webster immediately put pressure on with a tight forecheck and the play moved back into the Portland zone. Then, with about ten seconds left on the clock, one of the Winter Hawk forwards broke free, past the Three Mikes and with about five seconds to go crossed the red line, slapping the puck hard towards the Totems goal.

Troy had been in error. The fourth Portland goal was the luckiest of all. The puck flew into the Vancouver zone, about nine feet off the ice, straight over Billy Weldon’s head. It hit the glass behind him, bounced straight back, but down slightly. It hit his shoulder as he was turning and dropped straight into the net, just before the buzzer sounded.

The ensuing overtime period produced no more goals and the Totem’s winning streak was over. Bobby’s ownership reign was almost done.

Next Chapter: Wednesday

The Meaning of Hockey finishes this Friday after running three times a week for 16 weeks exclusively on The Tyee. To offer advice, to criticize or to reserve your printed copy of The Meaning of Hockey email [email protected]